


Baby Skin Tattoo

by theskywasblue



Series: 7 Deadly Sins [5]
Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Child Abuse, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can only touch her when she's sleeping</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Skin Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [7 Deadly Sins](http://community.livejournal.com/7_deadly_sins_/) community on Livejournal - Prompt: Lust; and inspired by David Usher's "Baby Skin Tattoo"

He should have gotten a lighter, he decided; maybe he could have nicked one from his brother's pocket, or from one of the older boys at school. At least he knew how to work a lighter. Not that he didn't know how to work matches, but lighters were pretty much foolproof in his understanding. None of the wooden matches from the drawer in the kitchen wanted to light. The sticks snapped and pricked his fingers with their jagged wooden edges or the heads fell to the floor or crumbled straight into dust.

"C'mon…" Gojyo growled, "C'mon, just one…"

Finally, a single match sparked, giving birth to a burst of orange flame. The smell of sulphur tickled Gojyo's nostrils and he quickly curled his palm around the tiny flame, raising it to the cigarette between his lips just like the older boys at school did, inhaling show and deep.

At first he thought he had set his lungs on fire. He choked back a cough and spit into the palm of his hand, trying to rid his mouth of the bitter, earthy taste, wiping dark-stained saliva on his filthy jeans. The second lungful wasn't so bad. By the third the queasiness in his stomach had subsided and he was starting to think he might be able to smoke the whole thing, and maybe another one afterwards.

If nothing else, the dry burn in his chest and the back of his throat gave him something to think about, focus on, instead of the sounds on the other side of the bedroom wall.

He inhaled, slow, let the smoke curl from his nose like a dragon in a storybook. It made his head hurt, and he thought about that too, let the ache press into the back of his brain and smother the sounds out, the gasps and the soft creaking. He tapped the ashes onto a small, permanently stained plate he had taken from the kitchen cupboard, wondering how long it would take to fill it up and how black his lungs would be by then. His teacher had lectured the entire class on smoking – that it was bad, could make you sick, and could kill you, slow and painful and rotting from the inside. That was when Gojyo had decided he would try it. He wasn't scared of dying slow; he wasn't scared of dying at all.

The door to his mother's bedroom opened and closed. Hurriedly, Gojyo tossed the remains of his cigarette and closed his bedroom window, listening at the door until he heard the dull pattering of the shower.

His mother's door was open, just a crack. If he pressed his eye to the crack he could see the line of her arm, the tangle of yellowed sheets. The door creaked softly as he eased it open, loud enough to make Gojyo wince and his heart speed up, but not enough to wake his mother. She was a deep sleeper, always had been, especially after. It was the only time Gojyo could ever get close to her, could look at her without the risk of her getting angry. It was the closest he could get without getting hurt.

She was so beautiful, sprawled out asleep on the mess of the bed, late afternoon sun casting soft shadows on her sleeping face. Jien always tucked her in, covered her up, but she must have moved since he had left the room, because her hand hung off the mattress and the sheet had pulled down on one side to show the pale swell of one breast. Gojyo reached out and let his fingertips slide over the warm skin; his mother stirred, but didn't wake. He bent and pressed a kiss to the bone-white hollow of her throat, "I love you mom."

Jien had told him once that he had had a real mother a long time ago, one who loved him; but Gojyo knew that Jien told a lot of lies – to the neighbours, to the teachers at school, to the people in town – lies to keep him safe, and lies to make him happy. Gojyo was sure a mother who loved him was just another lie.

Gojyo kissed his mother's cheek, smoothed her hair away from her face, and a smile curled up the corner of her lip. He kissed her there too.

"I'll be a better son," he promised, "and then you'll love me too."

He drew the sheet up, the same way Jien always did, to cover and protect her; then he crept back to his own room, to finish chasing the smell of smoke out before Jien was done in the shower.

-End-


End file.
